


An Apple, a Sweater, and a Tube of Lipstick That Isn't What It Seems

by WhoInWhoville



Series: Call Me Bad Wolf [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bad Wolf Rose, Dungeon, F/M, Secret Agent Rose, Semi-Public Sex, Spy Rose, aphrodesiac, fic prompt, lasagna, non-explicit though, performance enhancement, poor unsuspecting prison guard, seduction to escape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12618624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: Torchwood Super Agent Rose Tyler uses all of her assets to get the job done.





	An Apple, a Sweater, and a Tube of Lipstick That Isn't What It Seems

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by this lovely anon's request:  
>  _Anonymous asked: When you can pls write something (even Drabble!) that involves an apple a sweater & a tube of lipstick that isn’t what it seems :3 (mostly just bc my post anxiety attack brain read tube as lube & I had to go back & re read it a couple times to comprehend that it said tube of lipstick)_  
> I have to include my reply:  
>  _Dare I admit what the first thing in my head was after I read your misread? **Lube of Tip Stick**. Interpret that as you wish._
> 
> This was one of a set of prompts posted by the tumblr community, doctorroseprompts.

Bad Wolf is Torchwood's best agent. She's awfully good at thinking on the fly, and yeah, she's had to work with less, but even she has to admit, the assets she's come up with this time are pretty darn meager. She sits on the cold, damp floor of the dungeon. An honest to goodness dungeon complete with dripping water, flickering torches, chains and manacles on the walls, and menacing guards holding spears, probably half asleep. She shakes her head and almost laughs. Whatever megalomaniac who owns this place is a serious weirdo. The chains attached to her ankles jangle as she adjusts her position.

She's still planning on meeting the Doctor for dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant after the op. It's the fourth anniversary of The Kiss, and their second wedding anniversary. She's also got a bad craving lasagna. She's famished having only eaten a tasteless, mealy apple about six hours before. She's not about to miss this night as she's secretly booked a room in that sexy little boutique hotel next door. She's even brought her _special_ lipstick that really isn't lipstick.

She breathes in and out a few times just thinking about the _things_ that the veryveryvery special lip balm inside of that golden tube does to both of them. It is an extremely effective pleasure enhancer, and works lightning fast. Her husband is a bona fide genius, not that he really needs to prove it. He calls it their Quickie Stick, because it is specifically meant for those moments when they don't have much time, but really want to take advantage of an office supply cupboard, an empty desk when they are both working late, or that dark corner booth in the restaurant that they've reserved for tonight. It has _curtains_ , and they can both be very quiet when they want to be.

Then she thinks about the sweater she's wearing under her Torchwood field op kit. It's his favorite. The cashmere is paper thin, it's tight, and the neckline is low. Might distract the guards. It doesn't look like they get much action, unless someone has a thing for missing and rotten teeth, weak chins, and combovers. (Where did this Evil Genius they've been trying to take down get these guys? Maybe they're stronger than they look? Naw.) But they do have spears.

She frowns for a minute thinking about anyone else using their special balm, giving in to its _special_ properties, but the plan just might work. She's not worried about getting it on her own skin. There is no one here, and nothing about this this dungeon that could ever turn her on. In fact, she is more turned off right now than she's ever been.

Here goes nothing. "Oh guard," she coos. "Could you help me with something? I'm awfully lonely in here. Thing is, I'm a bit turned on by all of these chains and restraints. I'm really quite worked up actually, and I could use some... relief." She shifts her legs and runs her tongue over her teeth.

The dumb lunk's eyes glaze over. He stares at her chest as she slowly unzips the black jacket with a hum, revealing the tight sweater that has been concealed until now. He lets himself in.

"You're not scared are you? You've never experienced the deep, intense pleasure that being out of control can give, have you?"

He shakes his head, mouth slack.

"I'll be your teacher. Would you like that? But first I'm gonna need ya to unlock my ankles. I'm very flexible. Wouldn't you like to see just how flexible I am?"

He grins like a loon as he practically falls over himself unlocking the shackles. She fights the urge to laugh at his desperation.

"Why don't you get ready for me. I can hardly wait to see those strong muscles of yours that are under that sexy, sexy uniform of yours."

He jumps on one foot, almost toppling over as he struggles to strip off his clothes.

Superman pants. Of course they are. "Oooo," she coos, snapping the waistband, "Superman. Oooooo, I bet you're a man... of... _steel_."

"Let me just put on some lipstick. No one likes a lover with chapped lips, and I want to kiss you in all of your most sensitive places. I bet you'll like that." She slowly opens the tube, rolls up the balm, and sashays towards him slowly, making a big show of pretending to apply it.

"You know what I like? I like it when my lover wears it, too. I love it when my lover has soft, pliant, full lips."

She lets her mouth relax, licks her lips, and then carefully applies it to his mouth. He licks his own lips, and she smiles, knowing that will only hasten the affect.

"Tastes good, doesn't it? Like strawberries and vanilla. I bet you like strawberries, don't ya? I like it when my lover licks my strawberries." She shimmies as she giggles girlishly and bites her fingertip.

"Yeah. Strawberries," he barely manages to say. He licks his lips again, and reaches for her.

"Uh uh uh," she grabs his wrist firmly. "I like to be in charge. Do you like it when your lover is in charge?"

"I like it all!"

She pushes down on his shoulders until he's on his knees, and in a blur of black and blonde, she's shackled both his ankles and wrists, and he's already starting to grunt and thrust, already shouting for release, but before she can hear his begging for someone, anyone, to ease the frustration of his very uncomfortable situation, she's out of the iron cage, and has lunged through an open window.

She hails a cab, peels off the black uniform, revealing skin tight jeans and that blue sweater. The Doctor is waiting for her in their favorite booth. Half running to the back of the restaurant, she applies the lip balm, and is in the booth peeling off her jeans before he can even get the curtains fully closed, which is the unwritten message to the waitstaff: "Do not disturb under any circumstances."

"Hurry up, Doctor," she husks into his ear, "had to put it on earlier so it's double potent right now don't ask I'll tell you later just get those bloody trousers around your knees right now."

Bad Wolf straddles the Doctor's lap, and for 90 brilliant seconds she proceeds to show him just how clandestine she can be. She is Torchwood's best agent, after all.


End file.
